Salt
by sweetfur
Summary: StanKyle. Oneshot. Strong SLASH! Fighting and pain just make the sex better. PLEASE REVIEW!


Wow. I had a lot of fun with this one. I'd been playing around with the idea of torture, and I decided to just go for it. XD So here's 'Salt'. I'm quite happy with the way it turned out, and I hope you will be too. I think all you fellow STYLE fans will find it quite tasty. -nods-

I don't own any of the characters, duh.

PLEASE **REVIEW**! All of you that have reviewed my previous stuff, I** LOOOVE **you! -glomps- Every review makes me smile.

---

"Son of a bitch!" Stan heaved the football as hard as he could, sending it hurling towards the window. The eruption of shattering glass shook the quiet, sending a crow flapping out of a nearby tree. A dog barked somewhere down the street, making his rage flare. Stan swung his fist into his dad's toolshed, leaving a painful dent in the wood. The last few fragments of glass fell from the window pane, landing in the fresh snow.

Restlessly wandering across his snow coated yard, Stan reached the backdoor, breathing heavily. He threw it open, almost tearing it off it's hinges. The force caused a dish on the kitchen table to tumble to the floor, breaking into three pieces.

"Stanley? Is that you? What's going on?" His mother's worried voice called from the livingroom.

He said nothing. Tears ripped at his beautiful eyes, threatening to fall.

He hurried up the stairs, clumsily, falling into his bedroom door. There he stopped. Leaning his head against the wood, he choked on a sob, tears coursing down his face.

_How could he?_

Kyle was supposed to love him. But now he'd agreed to stay overnight at Butter's house in an attempt to coach Butter's dismal soccer skills. Kyle knew how much Stan hated Butters. Stan saw right through Butters. The whole soccer thing was just a way for Butters to get Kyle alone. That gangly brat had been lusting over his boyfriend for years, and this was just another pathetic scheme to snag Kyle. He'd tried this kind of thing before.

Stan's blood boiled. He had warned Kyle of Butter's ulterior motives, but Kyle had just told Stan to get over himself. Kyle had agreed to this because he felt bad for Butters. _Am I not more important than Butters?_

Stan could just imagine them. Butter's cold, pale hand creeping on spidery fingers down Kyle's muscular thigh, gripping between his legs. The thought of anyone else's hands on Kyle's magnificent body made Stan bristle. He wanted to scream and throw up at the same time. Stan knew every crease of Kyle's body, having held it a million times, kissed it a million times, and made love to it a million times. Each time better than the last.

Anger filled him again, and pushing the door open with his shoulder, Stan fell into his room. He shuddered, dropping onto his bed, landing on his football jersey. It smelled faintly of Kyle, a mixture of sweat and musky cologne, not over done of course. Stan tore angrily at the fabric, wishing for the first time in his life that Kyle would just _disappear_.

---

"So, why exactly am I here?" Kyle asked, eyeing Cartman's unusually innocent grin.

"Because, Kyle, I have a bigger backyard than you or Butters. More room to practice and shit." He groaned.

"And why the hell do you suddenly give a shit about soccer?"

"I can be the goalie, dumbass. No ball could ever get past me." Cartman gave a strained smile.

What the fuck? Since when did Cartman actually admit that he was fat? He obviously wanted something.

"Where the hell is Butters?" Kyle snapped, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

"In my room. And he can't come down. He's uh, getting ready upstairs, and, um, wanted to show you something."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "What do you want, Cartman?"

Cartman's eyes widened, as if the thought that Kyle didn't believe he was sincere was horrifying. "Nothing! Honest. Just c'mon." He pleaded.

Kyle sighed, following his so called friend up the stairs. He really wasn't in the mood for this. The fight with Stan had drained him of all his energy. _Stupid bastard. Didn't even trust his own boyfriend. _Kyle tried to shake Stan from his head, but it was easier said than done. _Fuck Stan_.

Cartman stopped at the door to his room, suddenly grabbing Kyle's wrist and yanking him in. He locked the door behind them.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Kyle growled, swinging a fist at Cartman. The heavy boy ducked, but not fast enough. Kyle's fist collided with his nose, and Cartman felt a bone crack.

"FUCK!" He screamed, grabbing his nose. Blood dribbled onto the carpet.

Kyle glared at him, daring him to make another move, when he noticed his surroundings. Iron hand and ankle cuffs had been attached to the concrete wall. Cartman had begged his mom to replace his walls with pure concrete. Kyle had never understood why. It made the room look like a basement. Now he understood. A knife lay on the bed, next to a salt shaker. Panic rose in Kyle's throat. He tried to dodge past Cartman, to the door, but Cartman shoved him back, blood still leaking from his broken nose.

Kyle hit the wall, right by the handcuffs. Cartman struggled to pin him down, latching the cuffs around his wrists. "Butters!" he yelled. The knob on Cartman's closet rattled, and out stepped the spindly blond, a horse whip clutched in his right hand. He eagerly hurried over, grabbing Kyle's leg and snapping the cuff around his ankle while Cartman secured the other.

---

Kyle thrashed wildly, straining on his bonds, screaming until his voice was hoarse. Sweat poured down his face and neck. His muscles pulsed in exhaustion.

Butters watched Kyle, whip in hand, waiting for Cartman to tell him what to do.

The awful beast was bent over his computer, tinkering with his webcam.

Kyle's heart raced, realizing Cartman's intentions. He strained against his bonds, the skin on his wrists already rubbed raw.

Cartman turned around, a satisfied smirk on his ugly face.

"Why the fuck are you doing this?!" Kyle barked, practically foaming at the mouth. Butters backed away.

Cartman chuckled. "Why, my dear Kyle? Because I hate you."

"What kind of a reason is that?" Kyle snarled.

"Well, I don't really have a reason besides that, but Butters here, he has a good reason."

Kyle's eyes focused on Butters. "What have I ever done to you?"

Butter's pale eyes narrowed. "It's not about what you've done to me. It's about what _I_ want to do to _you_."

Kyle glared at him, confused.

Cartman wiped the last of the blood from his nose. "Take off his clothes."

---

Stan slowly scrolled through the new emails he'd gotten earlier that day. 18 of them. 17 from friends and teammates, 1 from his football coach. The screen blurred through teary eyes as he deleted them all without looking at them. An instant message popped up on the screen with a bing.

**BigBoned6660 has requested a live video chat!**

Stan flicked on his webcam and accepted the invitation. _Best see what the stupid dick wanted..._

Cartman's face appeared on his screen, looking quite pleased with himself. "I have a surprise for you, Stanley." He cooed, shifting the camera slightly.

The sight that appeared on his screen made him gag. Kyle was naked, cuffed to Cartman's wall, sweaty and bruised.

Stan felt himself scream, but couldn't hear it. Kyle's eyes met his, bursting into tears.

"Kyle!" Stan gripped his monitor, shouting into it. "Oh, my god! Kyle!" Tears poured down his face, his pupils dilated in horror. Stan noticed Butters standing next to his tethered boyfriend, whip in hand.

"DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING TOUCH HIM!" Stan roared, spit speckling the screen.

Cartman threw his head back, laughing. "Show Stanley here our little game." he drawled.

With all his strength, Butter's drew back, slashing the whip across Kyle's chest. He yelped in pain, a red mark forming across his tanned skin.

Stan cried out.

---

Kyle's skin crawled as he noticed Butters staring at his slick, golden chest. He bucked in his handcuffs, Stan's heartbroken eyes eating his soul from Cartman's monitor. Butters struck the whip against his chest for the 17th time. His skin was raw and peeling. Kyle's angry sobs and the creak of the chains filled the silence. Kyle met Stan's icy eyes, his face flushed with tears.

Cartman stood suddenly, grabbing the knife off his bed. Silently, a smirk plastered to his face, Cartman knelt down in front of Kyle. The boy squirmed, flinching away from the sharp blade, heart pounding.

Stan watched, unable to say anything. He could feel his heart squeeze up in his chest as if someone were strangling it.

Butters pressed his body against Kyle's, breathing heavily. Kyle turned his face away, squeezing his eyes shut. Butter's wiry hand grasped his jaw, forcing Kyle to meet his lips. Kyle flattened himself to the wall, pretending it was Stan's lips pressed against his, not Butter's. But Stan's lips were seductive and warm, not cold and stiff like Butter's. Tears leaked out of Kyle's eyes. Cartman crouched down so that his beady eyes were level with Kyle's package. He brought the knife to Kyle's flesh with a smile on his face.

---

In a fit of fury, Stan jumped out of his desk chair, grabbing the computer monitor, he shoved it to the ground. Tears swept down his face. _HOW COULD THEY?!_

_Kyle..._

Stan barreled out of the room and down the stairs. Before his mom could ask about all the ruckus, he yanked his car keys off the counter.

He was flushed with rage, his Fox Racing tee sticking to his back with sweat.

Flooring the gas pedal, he shot out of the driveway and into the street, tires squealing. Stan's knuckles we're turning white, he was gripping the steering wheel so hard. Cartman's house was just a few blocks away, but it took forever. Stan ran every red light without thinking twice. Cars swerved to avoid him, but he didn't even blink. Testosterone sped through his veins. Sweat dripped into one of his wild blue eyes, the shocking color brought out by his black hair.

The car screeched into Cartman's driveway, leaving bold marks on the pavement.

---

Kyle let out a gasp, or as much of a gasp as he could, when he heard the tires of Stan's car. Blood trickled down his legs, Cartman, humming as he shook salt into the wounds. Kyle was too exhausted to cry out at the tremendous pain that seared his body. He could hardly breath. His rusty hair hung into his eyes. Chest heaving, he squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to block out his surroundings. He felt Butter's clammy hand slide down his inner thigh.

"_Stop, you little fucker._" Kyle managed to choke.

Cartman made a tiny niche in Kyle's sensitive skin, a little too close to his member. Kyle's head fell back in pain, and then he lurched forward, sinking his teeth into Butter's shoulder. Kyle could feel blood dribble into his mouth. He clenched his jaw as hard as he could, his canines tearing Butter's flesh. Butters let out a scream, jerking away from Kyle.

There was a sudden pounding on the door. _Stan! _

"Son of a fucking whore." Cartman swore, spitting into the latest cut and smearing in a pinch of salt. Kyle's eyes rolled back in his head, he let out a pain filled moan, and went limp, sweat dripping to the floor. There was a huge crash and Stan was suddenly in the room, eyes sharp with fury. His whole body heaved as he eyed Kyle's offenders. Butters backed up into the wall, suddenly terrified, now that one of the muscular boys was in the room without the restraint of chains.

"You little _bitch_." Stan panted, advancing on the frail boy. "Kyle would never love _you_." With that, Stan swung a fist, sending Butters crumpling to the floor. He gave him a kick in the gut for good measure, knocking him out.

"Well, well, well. Is it not the famous Stan Marsh?" Cartman sneered, approaching from behind. "Let's not be stupid, shall we?" He held the small knife in front of his face, letting the blade wink in the light.

"Why, Cartman? Why the _fuck_ did you do this?" Stan growled, ignoring the weapon.

"Because." He said smugly.

"That's no reason, prick." Stan roared, swinging his fist into Cartman's face. He fell backwards, hitting the wall and slumping to the floor. Stan gave him an enraged kick in the groin, causing the heavy boy to double over.

Stan looked at his red knuckles, then up at his injured boyfriend.

Kyle raised his head slightly, forcing a smile.

"_Oh, Kyle_." Stan cried, tears flooding his eyes, he stumbled over to release his boyfriend.

---

Stan ran a hand through Kyle's hair, then placed a soft kiss on his lips. He rubbed alcohol gently into Kyle's wounds, trying to be as careful as he possibly could be. Stan, knowing that Kyle's family was out, had taken Kyle home. He had helped Kyle onto his bed, making sure he was comfortable, then rummaged through the Broflovski's medicine cabinet. Stan now crouched over his boyfriend, dressing his various wounds. None of them were too serious, but Kyle was obviously in pain. Stan was relieved that he had gotten there before Cartman's knife had reached Kyle's manhood.

The T.V. was on across the room, Kyle's different colored eyes lazily watched it's flashing pictures. Stan now ran his hand over Kyle's defined abs, pausing when he got to the trail of reddish fuzz leading downwards. Here, there was an 'X' shaped scar where the knife's strokes were particularly deep. Kyle cringed at Stan's touch. "Sorry..." Stan whispered, kissing Kyle's nose. "This will sting for a second." He dabbed some of the alcohol onto a cotton ball and rubbed it over the cut. Kyle let out a pained yelp, breaking Stan's heart for the billionth time that day.

"Sorry." he whispered again, nuzzling Kyle's neck. Kyle smiled, wrapping his arms around Stan's shoulders. He buried his nose in the crook of Stan's neck. "It's okay." He said, loving his boyfriend more than ever. "I should have listened to you about Butters."

A tear dropped from one of Stan's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Kyle." He blotted dried blood away from another cut, cringing at how inflamed the salt had made the skin. Kyle's chest was criss-crossed with marks from the whip, his skin peeling slightly. Stan had covered most of the lashings with a damp cloth, trying to soothe the pain.

Kyle sat up, wincing, to give Stan a kiss.

"Hey! Don't sit up, you're hurt!" Stan tried to push him back down.

Kyle rolled his eyes. "They're just flesh wounds."

Stan kissed him, gently pushing him back onto the bed at the same time. With a hand on either side of Kyle's head, he leaned over, resting his forehead on Kyle's . "Don't move." Stan told him, placing a kiss on his boyfriend's forehead.

He went back to work, moving down farther.

Kyle moaned a little, involuntarily, as Stan rubbed alcohol on his southern-most cuts. Stan laughed, lowering his head and starting in on a new gash, this time using his tongue. Kyle's mind wheeled as Stan's warm tongue teased his tender flesh.

"Stop,...Dude, you're...going to get it...infected..." Kyle managed to pant, battling every urge in his body.

Stan grinned lustily at him after he pulled away. He went back to using alcohol, dabbing at each wound with gauze, smiling as Kyle moaned softly at the feel of the delicate material.

Stan finished tending to Kyle's wounds and muted the T.V., stripping off his dirty shirt. Stan lay down next to Kyle, putting an arm over his chest.

Kyle opened his yellow eye, then the green one. His lids lowered, content. A smile spread across his face as Stan snuggled up to him.

"I love you so much, Kyle"

"Love you more, dude." Kyle kissed his boyfriend's head.

---

Stan yawned, opening his eyes. He blushed when he realized that Kyle's hand was down his jeans. Kyle was stroking his bare chest, his eyes smoky and seductive. Stan grinned back lazily, running a hand down Kyle's strong chest.He met his boyfriend's lips hungrily, groaning as Kyle rolled over onto him. Stan wrapped his arm's around his lover, pulling him close. Kyle grunted in pain, sitting up.

"What's wrong?" Stan asked, cupping Kyle's face.

"Damn, my bruises are sore, I guess..." Kyle rubbed the back of his neck, looking at Stan with sad eyes. "Sorry."

Stan kissed him. "Taking a bath may help." He suggested, smiling fondly. "C'mon."

---

"Ahhh..." Kyle relaxed into the hot water, loving the feeling of his injuries being bathed in the liquid. His eyes closed in comfort, a long sigh escaping his throat. When he opened them, he was met with a sultry look from Stan. He was standing over the bathtub, eyeing his boyfriend, a grin smearing his handsome face.

"Looks good in there." he murmured, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans, and slowly pulling them off.

Kyle's heart sped up when he saw that Stan wasn't wearing anything under his jeans.

Stan didn't join him, but instead, crouched down beside the bathtub, grabbing a scratchy bath-mitt that lay on the edge. Not taking his eyes off the other boy, he slipped it on, took a bar of soap and began to work up a thick lather.

Kyle watched him, transfixed, as Stan finished and leaned over him. He began to rub Kyle's chest, moving his gloved hand in slow circles, making Kyle groan in pleasure. Stan slowly rubbed his way down to the inside of Kyle's legs. Kyle trembled in anticipation, raising his hips slightly, begging Stan.

Stan's coy grin widened as he watched Kyle's lips quaver. He finally slid the rough mitt around Kyle's erection, sliding it up and down. Kyle produced a sharp, guttural moan, heaving his hips out of the soapy water, and thrusting into Stan's hand. Stan worked faster until Kyle was just about to come in his hand. He then pulled back, smirking at Kyle, who was gasping for breath. Slipping off the mitt, he climbed into the sudsy water so that he was over Kyle. Kyle wrapped his arms lustily around Stan's shoulders, meeting his lips. One hand worked it's way down, gripping Stan's member. Stan let out a surprised yelp. Kyle pushed up from under him, pressing Stan back into the wall. Their eyes met, Stan's cloudy, Kyle's wild. Kyle sank down on his knees, taking as much of Stan as he could into his mouth, his eyes grinning up at him. Stan squeezed his own eyes together, throwing his head back and tangling his fingers in Kyle's wet hair. He came quickly and with fervor, biting his tongue to keep from screaming.

Stan rested his head against the wall. Kyle stroked his heaving chest, sliding up to slip his sticky tongue into Stan's mouth. Stan held Kyle lovingly as the dirtied bath water spun around them.

---

Kyle's back rested against the propped up pillows, still rather sore. Stan was wrapped in his arms, sound asleep. He ran a hand down one of Stan's biceps, kissing his cheek. He stirred slightly as Kyle pulled the blanket over him.

His parents would be home soon, so best savor their naked bodies entangled with the sheets. Kyle slid down under the blanket and wrapped his arms around Stan's waist. He snuggled up, leaning his head on Stan's broad shoulder. Kyle's messy hair tickled Stan's nose, and he lifted a hand, swatting at his face. Kyle laughed softly, kissing his lover. Stan grunted in his sleep, turning over and wrapping his arms around Kyle's neck, burying his face in his hair.

Kyle kissed Stan's head affectionately. "I love you, you idiot."

---

Sweetfur


End file.
